Amid the gunfire, I witnessed the Anzac spirit

Here today in the lucky country we enjoy a quality of life and freedom that is beyond comprehension to many around the globe, and that isn't luck, it came with great cost.

Reuters

On my deployment to Afghanistan I had the privilege to witness the latest generation of Anzacs in action, and it filled me with an immense sense of pride, writes Leon Gray.

It's a late December morning in the Chora Valley of southern Afghanistan and a stunning vista of fertile vegetated area follows the region's main watercourse through the desert.

In the distance the sun has just cleared the mountain range and is battling to penetrate the fog and cloud cover that hides their peaks.

Despite being midway through my second deployment to this province I still marvel at such eerie mystique and scale.

I return my attention to the other six men in my infantry section who are in a scrub behind the protective cover of a small ridge line. Despite the near-zero temperature everyone is drenched waist-deep in ice-cold water from wading through the aqueducts that criss-cross the agricultural areas. Use of the many narrow walkways is out of the question as they are favoured pickings for Taliban-planted antipersonnel mines.

Along with the rest of the second platoon, we have been patrolling for hours, laden with thick armour plating and bristling with weapons and equipment. The going is tough, especially in the thin air at this altitude.

Today's mission is routine, our platoon is providing a protective screen in order to facilitate the security for an Afghan National Army cordon and search operation to our north.

Leaving our temporary refuge we adopt a combat formation and continue south towards the next cluster of mudbrick buildings. Our heart rates start to rise and stomachs begin to churn as this morning all the indicators are that enemy contact is imminent, and the air is thick with a familiar surreal sense of exhilarating anticipation and silent dread.

The anticipation doesn't last long.

As we emerge from a tree line and onto a prime patch of open fields, the built up area to our front erupts with the distinctive rattle of Soviet-era automatic weapons firing in sustained bursts.

Swearing, I hit the dirt and make a short crawl towards the nearest piece of cover, a thin and dead looking Mulberry sapling. I wince at the whip-like cracking of AK47 rounds passing overhead and the heavy impacts kicking up plumes of dirt as they sew lines among the patrol.

Bullets are coming well within two metres of each of us but amazingly nobody is hit. I pull my rifle into my shoulder and sweep my scope across the engagement area in a search of targets. Fleeting exposures of a fraction of a second made acquisition difficult at best.

As the platoon recovers from the shock of the initial barrage, training kicks in and we instinctively fight to regain the initiative and buy ourselves an ounce of breathing space so we can consolidate and take the fight to the enemy.

Over the next two hours the Taliban executes a well-planned ambush working in small, fast moving groups in an attempt to encircle and isolate sub elements of our unit. And they come pretty close to it, forcing us into a frantic fighting withdrawal under fire while extracting one of our own who has been shot through both legs.

Had I not been there and part of it - and many other occurrences like it - I would not have had the privilege and honour and feel the immense pride to witness the latest generation of Anzacs in action.

I saw young Australians, many not long out of high school, operating in the complex environment of counter insurgency. Time and time again they exuded the qualities that are synonymous with the acronym ANZAC: mateship, loyalty, honour, compassion, valour, self-sacrifice and duty above all else. Noble sentiment sometimes lost in translation in today's perceived self-serving culture.

I enlisted in the Australian Army as a rifleman in 2001, and along with a lot of my brothers in arms I bore witness to the birth, life and passing of the conflict that defines this generation.

The creature that has become known as the Global War on Terror spanned 13 years, exhausted billions of dollars, claimed 40 Australian lives and left an impact on thousands of others. More than 25,000 Australian troops served in our commitment to Afghanistan, contributing their heart, soul and very being to the mission.

It's staggering to consider that some of today's combat veterans were in primary school when the conflict started.

Regardless of opinion on the strategic and political approach to Australia's involvement in the GWOT, just like the Anzacs a century before, come April 25 it should be put aside.

The work done by the men and women on the ground and the spirit in which it has been enacted has been first class.

As time passes the venerable diggers we see in black and white photographs are committed to history books. This Anzac Day another generation of ordinary Australians stands ready to take up the responsibility that comes with carrying the legacy.

Visiting the war memorial in Canberra should be an emotional experience and never feel comfortable or affirming. The same is true of Anzac Day. If it is, it's being done wrong.

Anzac Day is a day of commemoration, not celebration.

However, here today in the lucky country we enjoy a quality of life and freedom that is beyond comprehension to many around the globe, and that isn't luck, it came with great cost. And today I won't hesitate in raising a glass to that.

Leon Gray DSM enlisted in the Army in 2001 and held the rank of Corporal. He deployed to East Timor, Solomon Islands, Iraq and Afghanistan and was awarded the Distinguished Service Medal for leadership in action in Afghanistan in 2008. View his full profile here.